Hair of the Dog Supernatural 4x01
by sisterwinchester
Summary: This is my Season 4 opener. Picks up at the final scene of 3x16 "No Rest for the Wicked."


"Hair of the Dog"

Episode 3x16 Epilogue/ Episode 3x17/Episode 4x1

by SisterWinchester

September 16, 2008

Chapter 1

From the corner of his eye, Sam caught a glimpse of red and green. Still stunned from the recent attack, his brain quickly tried to make sense of the odd color combination. He blinked, remembering the awful truth, and turned around.

"Dean." It was almost a question, hoping upon hope that his brother was only badly wounded and not gone to him forever. As Sam knelt down beside his brother's mutilated figure, he was surprised at the thoughts that came into his mind. He thought of how many times Dean had rescued him, saved him. From the moment Dean carried Sam out of their burning home as children, right up until the moment of his death, Dean had been looking out for Sam. Funny how Sam was always the independent one, the one who didn't always need Dean, or anyone else for that matter. Funny how very alone and frightened Sam was at this moment, his eyes drowning in tears as he hugged Dean's lifeless body to him. He felt like a helpless child, lost in this new knowledge of a world without Dean.

He choked on his brother's name. "Is this how you felt? I know why you did it." Sam wiped his eyes. "But, I wish you hadn't!" His hands were covered in Dean's blood. He felt bile rise in his throat and he choked it down. He clumsily fell onto the floor next to Dean. "Why us, Dean?! We don't deserve any of this!" He stole a glance at Dean's face, experiencing a moment of selfish gratitude that he had missed the moment that the light had gone out in his brother's eyes, the eyes of the person who had loved him more than he had loved himself.

He began to think about how tortured Dean had been for so long. His body, bloody and battered, looked strangely at peace. Sam stayed this way for some time, at one point feeling content at the quiet solitude of lying there next to his brother, forgetting where Dean really was now. Seconds before the word "hell" tapped danced across his brain, Sam heard, "Jesus."

Bobby.

Sam heard a strange gurgling sound, looked up, saw the look of horror on Bobby's face, and realized that the sound he heard was coming from his own throat. Unable to control himself any longer, Sam turned away from Dean's body and wretched. He instantly felt two strong hands: one on his back, the other on his shoulder. "Take it easy, son... breathe."

"Oh, God... I'm sorry."

"Just-" Bobby's voice broke. He took a moment to quickly collect himself. "Just take a minute... and breathe." His strong hands squeezing Sam's shoulders. Sam, easily one of the biggest men Bobby had ever seen, looked like a frightened child, face streaked with tears and blood, his clothes saturated with red. After a moment, when Sam's body seemed to have calmed, if only a little, Bobby tried to coerce him into standing. Stronger than Sam's inability to stand was Bobby's need to fall down, simply collapse. The site of his friend's two sons, bloodied and broken was more than he could bear. He sunk to his knees beside the two young men. _How would he get through this? What was he supposed to do? What was the right thing to do?_ He looked up. "I'm so sorry, John." Bobby muttered in a strangled whisper. Every time he swallowed, it felt like razorblades lined his throat.

Not knowing what he had just heard, Sam looked at Bobby. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied barely in a whisper. Bobby reached out and took Sam's face in his hands, held it tightly. "Sam, my God. I'm so sorry." Tears were stinging his eyes at the memory of another moment like this one. A year ago, he witnessed one brother's death, and the other's ensuring despair. He had been a coward and left Dean alone against his better judgment. _And look what happened_, he thought to himself. _I won't make that mistake again_. Sam nodded at Bobby, somehow knowing his thoughts, and attempted to stand.

As Sam stood looking around, not knowing what to do next, he spotted Ruby. Well, the dead body that was once inhabited by Ruby. "I wonder who she was." Bobby stood up and walked to stand beside him. Suddenly, Sam sucked in air.

"What?"

"The family. They're still in the basement?"

"You stay here, I'll take care of it." He took one step and stopped. "Don't move."

Sam shook his head weakly, and Bobby left the room. Sam looked at Ruby's body, then touched his lips, remembering the unwelcome kiss she had forced on him. "_All grown up and pretty_, huh?" He paused and bent down over her for a closer look. He reached out with one hand, moving a strand of hair that was covering her face. "You don't look so pretty now." Seconds later, from somewhere deep inside him, Sam felt the urge to kick her lifeless corpse but, resisted. _Oh, God. What's wrong with me?_ He was suddenly roused from that thought by voices coming from another room. Bobby taking charge of the situation.

"Please, don't go in there. Just let us take care of a few things first. Then, we'll leave, and this will all be over."

Sam thought about joining Bobby but wasn't ready to leave this room. His resolve wavered. He walked over to Dean's body and sat down cross-legged beside him. He gave a short, strange laugh, "It's funny. I- I don't want to leave this room. As soon as I do, you'll really be dead. And I-." He gently touched Dean's eyelids and closed them. "Guess you really are gone." Grief washed over him like a tidal wave. He took Dean's shoulders in his hands and shook them, "Why'd leave me _behind_? You _always_ left me _behind_!" The words sounded childish in his ears.

"That not true, Sam." Sam's body stiffened. He turned, and saw Bobby standing just behind him. "When you- when you were... stabbed, your brother-" He broke off, unable to say it.

"Bobby, I-."

"Son, I can only imagine what you're going through right now. But, we've got to take your brother and get out of here." He squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Now."

Chapter 2

As gently as they could, they wrapped Dean's body in a blanket and carried it out to the Impala. They laid his body in the backseat. Then, purely out of habit, Sam opened the passenger door and started to sit down. He stopped awkwardly, in a half-sitting motion and stepped away from the car. He closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side. Bobby was already there. "I don't think you're in any shape to drive, son."

Sam tried to smile. _Was it possible to smile_? "I'm fine, Bobby."

"Dammit, Sam, I am not letting you outta my sight. At least not for a few days."

"Bobby, I-". Sam stopped. "What's that sound?" His ears picked up something that sounded like a guitar riff. Sam felt his eyes sting, "It's Dean's phone." He quickly opened the door to the back seat, and the sound became clearer. He moved the blanket and retrieved the phone from Dean's pocket.

"Hello?"

"Sam?! Is that that you?" _I know_, he thought, _it probably doesn't sound much like me, does it?_

"Ellen?"

"Sam," she stopped. "Is Dean-?" He knew what she wanted to know but was unable to say the words.

"He's gone." The moment those two small words crossed his lips, his entire body was racked with grief, this time worse than before. He held the phone close to his ear, listening to the comforting tenor of Ellen's motherly voice. "Sam, I am so sorry, baby. So, so sorry." Sam just kept silently nodding his head, the tears flowing freely again. He had to pull himself together. Dean would have hated for Sam to carry on this way. "Thank you, Ellen." His voice was thick. He heard Ellen ask him, "Are you alone, Sam?" Sam tried to pull himself together long enough to tell her that Bobby was there. But, he couldn't get the words out. He heard her say his name several times, then finally "Hang on, Sam. I'm coming to get you."

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He managed to choke out, "Bobby's here." Then, he handed the phone off to Bobby.

Bobby said, "Ellen," then turned and walked away from Sam, presumably to spare him the pain of having to listen to the story of his brother's death.

Sam sat down behind the wheel, and looked into the rear-view mirror. The blanket had fallen open to reveal Dean's face. "I know that this is real. And, that you're gone, and that we've both known for awhile that this would happen. But, I feel so unprepared. I don't know what to do, Dean." He paused, and then released a short chuckle. "I wish Dad were here." Sam smiled in spite of himself. "Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you?" Suddenly, Bobby appeared at the window. Sam got out of the car. He needed Bobby's help with something.

"Ellen is going to come to my place, stay there for awhile." Bobby appeared slightly embarrassed about this but Sam didn't know why.

Sam just nodded and said, "Sure, OK." Sam raked a hand across his face, this time feeling the dried blood on his cheeks. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans, although they weren't much cleaner. "Bobby, I need your help."

Bobby looked at him as if to say, _no kidding_.

"Dean wanted us to-." He heard a siren in the distance.

Bobby took Sam's arm. "Get in the car. We'll talk about it on the way. We gotta get outta here." Sam seemed determined to drive so Bobby let him. Sam's foot was on the gas before the passenger door was closed. "I know a place where we can take him." Bobby began, as gently as he could.

"That's what we need to talk about. Dean made me promise that I would-." Sam stopped, gripped the steering wheel until his fingers ached, "salt & burn his... so that he couldn't, you know, _come back_."

Bobby decided to tread lightly. "So what do _you_ think we should do?"

"I want to bury him."

"OK. Why?"

"Because, I can't- I can't burn him, Bobby."

"So, there's no other reason, then?" _Bobby, skeptical as ever_, Sam thought.

"What? No!" Sam shot Bobby an exasperated look. "No, nothing like that." _No more deals with the devil_, Sam thought.

"Well, like what, then?"

"Like, bury him in the ground, Bobby! That's it, that's all!"

"OK, then. If that's what you want."

"Oh, this is so far from what I want that it's ridiculous." _Be nice_, Sam warned himself, _Bobby's just trying to help_.

"Fair enough. Where do you want to bury your brother, Sam?"

"I wanted to bury him next to Mom."

"That might be kinda hard to do."

"Next to her gravestone, I mean. But, Dean would hate that idea." Sam reflexively looked at his brother in the rear-view mirror. "Would it be OK if we buried him at your place?"

Bobby inhaled slowly and held it for a moment. "OK, Sam. I know the perfect place." Sam nodded once, and they sat in silence for awhile. Sam entered the interstate heading west. "We have to be careful, Sam. I hate saying this but, we do have a dead body in the car. If we get stopped for any reason-".

"You want me to put my brother's body in the trunk?" Sam was clearly offended.

"Sam, just drive safe and keep your eyes open. There are lot of cops between here and South Dakota.

They drove in silence for awhile. He thought about his last moments with Dean, played every word over and over in his head like a looped video. He only retreated from this fixation when he had to speak to Bobby. For this silence, Sam was thankful. It gave his mind the opportunity to wander... and _to plan_. When Sam's brain finally landed on the solution, it hit him like a freight train. Fortunately, Bobby was asleep and didn't see Sam's visible reaction to this revelation.

At one point, Ellen called Bobby to check on their progress. "Sam wants to make a stop in Lawrence," saying _Lawrence_, as if the word itself was absurd. He looked at Sam, whose face shone such a look of utter determination that it made Bobby slightly uneasy. "There's someone he wants to see. A friend of John's. Then it will be just a few more hours Ellen."

Chapter 3

It was 11:41 p.m. when Sam stopped the car in front of a small house. "Sam, are you sure you want to do this?"

Sam gave a look that meant, don't even bother trying to stop me.

Sam didn't invite Bobby in with him but would have told him to stay in the car if he'd tried to come along. His foot was on the first step of Missouri Mosley's front porch, when a light came on, and the door opened. "Sam Winchester." A small woman stood there, in powder blue pajamas and a gray sweater. "Come in, honey. Come in." She opened the door and ushered Sam into the house. She gestured to a sofa in her den. "Sit down. You're exhausted."

Sam sat on the too small sofa, and clasped his hands together in front of him. "I take it you know why I'm here."

She couldn't help but be reminded of John sitting in that same spot, in that same pose not that long ago. "Well, I know... _something_." She sat next to him and squeezed his large hands in her small ones. "Baby, I am so sorry about your brother." Sam nodded silently. "And, your father." She stood up and walked over to the window that faced the street. "That's Bobby Singer."

Sam looked up. "You know Bobby?"

She nodded, "Yes. But, we'll save that for another time." She sat on the coffee table in front of Sam and touched his hair. "Sam, I don't know how you think I can help."

"I know you can help. The question is will you."

She nodded at this, her mind already seeing much more than Sam realized. She stood. "Wait right here." She left for a moment. Sam heard indistinct sounds: water maybe, and something clanking. He tried to be patient. He felt like he was running out of time. He realized that the last year of his life had conditioned him to feel that way. She returned after what seemed like an eternity. "Drink this." She handed him a mug of hot tea. He accepted the cup and took a long drink. "Here." She handed him a warm, wet washcloth, and said very sweetly, "Wipe your face and hands."

Sam did. He looked at the now stained cloth. "How much do you know?"

"I know that your brother is gone."

This statement held such finality that it angered Sam. "OK, but do you know what _happened_?"

"Sam, what's all this about?"

"It's about saving my brother!"

Her face said, _it's a little late for that, don't you think?_

Eyebrows arched impossibly high, he said, "It's not too late."

"What makes you so sure of that? Sam, you know I can't bring people back from the dead, right?"

"No." He looked at the blood stained washcloth then set it down on the table. "But I think _I _can." He watched her face. "You don't look surprised."

"I guess that's because I'm not. How long have you known this?"

"Not long." He took a long drink of his tea and began to fill in the blanks for Missouri Mosley. When she needed to, she would tell him to skip over details that she already knew. After ten minutes, she was up to speed.

"This demon, Ruby, told you that you had the power inside you to save your brother. But you don't know what that ability is, or how to use it?"

Sam gave a nervous laugh. "That's the gist of it, yeah." He watched her expression slowly change from doubt to pure hope.

"Sam, you might just have something here. I don't know why I didn't think of it before." She stood. "You and Bobby, bring your brother in here right away."

Sam launched himself off of the sofa like a rocket. He sprinted to the car and opened the passenger door, nearly spilling Bobby out onto the sidewalk. "What's wrong?"

"She thinks she can help. We have to bring Dean inside right now."

This time Bobby didn't bother giving any disapproving sounds or glances. Just the opposite. Bobby had never known Missouri Mosley to say she could help if she couldn't.

They gingerly carried Dean's cold body, still wrapped in the blood soaked blanket, up the steps and into the house. Missouri met them at the door. "Follow me." And, she led them to a small room at the top of the stairs. They laid Dean on a bed that was covered in an old-fashioned quilt. With great care, Missouri uncovered Dean. A small, nearly inaudible sound escaped her lips. "Poor baby." Her hand hovered over his forehead, not quite touching him. Without turning, she said, "Your Dad said it was frightening how much he loved you, Sam." She leaned down and whispered something into Dean's ear. Sam swallowed hard. Missouri looked up and smiled. "Bobby Singer. It's been a long time."

Bobby nodded once. "So," Bobby began slowly, "there _is_ something we can do."

She turned back to Dean. "I _will_ try." She closed her eyes and titled her head to the left, as if she were listening for something. Seconds passed, then a clock began chiming.

Midnight. _Oh God_, Sam thought, _he's been gone an entire day already. How is that possible?_ Momentarily, Sam feared that something would happen. _Will they come for him again? Will Dean's body disappear into thin air? _The chiming stopped.

Missouri's head was still tilted to the left. There was something more she was trying to hear. Sam closed his eyes, tried to hold his breath and listen. Then he heard it, something like wind blowing. A cold, dark wind that was so faint if he had not been straining to hear it, he would have missed it. "Sam?"

When he opened his eyes, Bobby was staring at him, looking rather confused. "Son, are you all right?"

Sam couldn't think of how to answer that question.

"There's not much time. I need you two to leave me alone with him. Sam, I'll call you when it's time."

"Time for what?" Bobby said. But, Sam was looking right at Bobby. His lips had never moved. _What the hell?_ Sam asked himself. Involuntarily Sam's heart-rate quickened and his palms began to sweat. _What's going on?_

"Let's go." Bobby took Sam by the arm and led him out into the hall. Bobby closed the bedroom door behind them. Then wheeled on Sam. "You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

Bobby looked so tired, and immediately Sam felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for the all of the pain he and his family had caused Bobby. "I'm not sure, exactly. Something just... _happened_."

"Listen, Sam, you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you may have just proved that by coming here tonight."

"O.K." Sam gave a crooked smile and shook his head. "Why are you going along with this, Bobby?"

Bobby jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom. "She's good. If there is something that can be done, anything at all, she's the one to help you do it." Sam felt relief wash over him for the second time in an hour.

"So, you two know each other?"

Bobby gave a strange little chuckle that sounded more like a cough. "She's the one who introduced me to your Daddy."

Bobby saw Sam's eyes light up, for the first time in too long. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sam could see Bobby's mind traveling off to a different time and place. "You still didn't answer my question. What's going on?"

Sam quickly explained to Bobby his conversation with Missouri.

"Oh." Bobby took off his cap, rubbed his head, then replaced the cap.

They were both silent for several minutes. Finally, Bobby settled awkwardly in a too pretty chair at the bottom of the stairs, while Sam paced endlessly up and down the short hallway, his long legs closing the short distance in four steps each time. Sam's thoughts were churning. _What was that strange wind sound I heard? How did I hear Bobby's thoughts as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud?_ He began to make a checklist of things that had changed, things that could somehow explain this change in him, this... ability. _Dean, Ruby, Lilith_. None of it really explained anything though.

Every so often he would look at his watch and wonder what was going on that bedroom. He stood next to the door, and tried to listen but heard nothing at all. He felt panic rising in him. _This isn't going to work. It will be like losing him all over again. No, nothing could ever be like that. People lose loved ones all the time. Why can't we Winchesters just let go? Because most people don't lose their loved ones to hell-hounds and crossroads demons after your brother sold his soul to save life._ "Our family is so effed up," he finally said aloud. He took one last trip down the hall, then lowered his tall frame onto the top step.

Bobby looked up. "How you holdin' up?"

Sam let his head fall into his hands. "He's in Hell, Bobby. And, I don't think I can live with that." Sam let loose a heavy sigh, fighting back more tidal waves of grief and guilt. He stood up and walked down the stairs. He decided to drink the rest of the tea Missouri had made for him. Something so simple, yet so soothing and comforting. He took a large gulp of the, now, lukewarm drink. "Smells like...-" But he never got to finish that thought. He heard Missouri crying his name. The cup fell from his hands and clattered onto the table.

Chapter 4

Missouri knew what she had to do. At least, she knew how to start. Her small body stood at the head of the bed, hovering over Dean. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling as she placed one hand on either side of his face. The instant her skin met with his, tiny pinpricks assaulted her palms and fingertips. "Good, you're still here." She drew her hands away, then placed them over his eyes, pressing hard against his skin. It was as if she were paperclip caught in the pull of a very large magnet, unable to break the connection between her mind, and the echo of what remained of Dean consciousness. Shades of gray and yellow filled her mind. She felt very cold. She moved her lips but no sound could be heard. She communicated with him, nonetheless.

_Dean... Dean can you hear me?_

Nothing. Her body moved slightly closer to his. Then, she could feel it: **pain**. Pain like she had never experienced, ripping through her body, tearing at her, like gigantic fish hooks pulling her flesh in all directions. She slowed her breathing, focused. Finally, she found him. "Somebody please! Help me!" _Wretched screams_. "SAM!"

_Dean... I'm here to help you._ She wasn't getting through to him. _Dean! I'm here to help you!_ She felt his spirit move and slide, then come to a stand still. She had never felt such fear, never in all her life such mortal fear and despair. _Now listen to me, Dean. I know what's happened and_... He was violently ripped from her. She gasped, as her hands flew off of his face, and she was propelled backwards. She caught herself on the bedside table.

"_SAM_! Sam, it's _time_!" she called out, her melodious voice filled with anxiety. She immediately went back to Dean, and climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him. Bobby was first through the door, followed by Sam less than a second later.

"What's happening?" Sam heard Bobby say... and _not_ say. Sam placed his hand in the middle of Bobby's chest, pushed him back out of the room and shut the door. He didn't even need to ask what to do. She was speaking directly into his mind. He circled to the other side of the bed.

_I had him, then the connection was broken. I need to get back to him immediately. You can hear me can't you?_

"Yes," Sam said aloud, still unsure how this new ability worked.

_Do not touch your brother until I tell you to. When I tell you to, place one hand over his head, and one over his heart. You are going to transfer your energy into him, Sam. _

Sam looked at her in stark disbelief.

_Ruby was right. You have the power to save Dean. _

"How do know?" Sam's tone was incredulous, his words strangled.

_Did you like the tea, Sam?_

_What?_ he thought, and she heard him.

_It's working. It won't work unless the ability is already there. I've never seen it work this rapidly, with this much power._ She paused, tilted her head to the left again, listening.

Sam followed her lead and listened again for the cold wind. This time, it was much stronger, clear and in stereo. His skin grew cold.

_We can't wait any longer if we want to save him._ Instantly, her hands were on Dean's face again, as before. Sam watched as her expression changed. Waited, counting his own breaths, like a ticking clock. Then, he saw her lips begin to move. _Why can't I hear her anymore? How will I know when to do it? _Sam closed his eyes and focused on the cold wind again. He was straining to hear something that he was sure wasn't really even there. _Help me, Sammy._

Sam's body jerked as if he'd been punched in the back. Simultaneously, his eyes snapped open. Missouri was leaned in very close to Dean, her lips just resting on Dean's chin. He didn't know why but he knew that he should touch her right now. He reached his left arm across the bed toward her. The instant the tip of his index finger touched the skin on her arm, his breath was knocked out of him. His hand was cemented to her arm, yet his body was flailing in agony.

_Sam, I've found your brother but he can't hear me, won't hear me. His mind is so clouded by pain and fear. Talk to him. You have to make a connection with him, he must acknowledge you, and then you can touch him, and bring him back. Do you understand?_

Her voice rang through Sam's mind like a wind-chime so delicate... and so difficult to make out in this tortured state. _I can barely hear you_, Sam thought.

_Speak to your brother, Sam. We don't have much time before they break the connection again. Each time he will be farther and farther away from us. Do it __**now**__, Sam before he forgets who he is; forgets who you are!_

Unlike Missouri, Sam had no visualization of any kind, just pitch black and pain. _How can I find him if I can't see him? _

_Listen, Sam. He's calling for you._

_Sammy! Oh my God! Somebody please! Help me! Please! Sam!_

_Dean? Dean!_ Sam felt the slide and stop of Dean's spirit, as Missouri had before.

_He hears you, Sam, keep talking to him._

_Dean, can you hear me?_ Nothing. Dean? _Answer me!_ Nothing. But, his spirit was not sliding away. _Dean, if you can hear me, say something. Say something so I can save you!_

Silence, blackness, ripping pain, then... _bitch_.

_Jerk_.

_Now_.

Sam violently retracted his hand from Missouri's arm and placed it over Dean's heart, and his other hand on Dean's head, above the two small hands covering Dean's face. Light burst forth from Sam, a silvery light that echoed and reverberated throughout the room. Curtains whipped about the windows, doors flew open, every bulb in the room burned white hot, then blew out. After a moment, Missouri was thrown clear of the bed. She landed on the floor at Bobby's feet. Light burst forth from Dean at every angle. Sam's head was thrown back, lips parted in a silent scream, as blue and silver waves of light escaped him.

And, then it was over.

Chapter 5

"How long has he been like this?" _Whose voice was that?_

"Wake up, now," he heard someone say.

He felt someone take hold of his jacket, attempting to hoist him up. _Why am I on the floor?_ He felt a quick slap on his cheek. He winced. "Rise and shine, Sammy."

Sam's eyes snapped open. "**Dean**!" His brother was crouched in front of him, looking worse for the wear but, very much alive. "Oh wait." _It had been a dream._

"No, it wasn't a dream," Missouri said.

Sam haphazardly pushed himself off of the floor. When he stood, the room spun. He felt two sets of strong hands steady him. "No, that was definitely a dream."

"Which part?" Dean asked, fighting back a grin. "The 'me-going-to-hell' part or the 'you- bringing- me-back-from-the-dead' part?"

_If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up._ Sam didn't see Missouri smile. He hugged his brother fiercely.

"I don't understand it but... whatever you did, Sammy, it worked." Dean pulled back and looked at his younger brother. "I owe you, Sam."

Sam thought about this for a moment. "Let's just call it even."


End file.
